


Watch TV

by KairosImprimatur



Series: Let Me In [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Sitcom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-28 03:50:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/987332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KairosImprimatur/pseuds/KairosImprimatur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone gave me the prompt of "sitcom" and I couldn't figure out what to do with it, so I decided to make it into post-Let Me In fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watch TV

Cordelia glanced up from the magazine she was reading at the reception desk as Buffy stepped into the Hyperion. “Here it comes,” she said blandly.

“Here what comes? Where’s Angel?” Buffy’s happy demeanor went through a rapid transmutation. “Is Angel not here? Is he seriously not present at this location during this moment when he _knew_ I was going to arrive? I don’t believe this.”

“Here that comes.” Cordelia set the magazine down. “He’ll be back in a jiffy. He said it was an emergency. Sacred duty? Protector of the innocent? Sound familiar?”

Buffy exhaled, crossed the room, and leaned down on Cordelia’s desk. “Yeah, I know. It’s just, this is our first weekend together in LA since you guys got back from that Piewheel world, and I didn’t want to spend any of it with the not having him here.” She risked a glare at the other girl. “And you told me he would be here. You owe me one vampire husband.”

“When the shipment comes in you’ll be the first to know.” Cordelia was impassive in the face of the accusation, a marked improvement from the days when Buffy was simply a competitor in her eyes. “Want to watch TV?”

Buffy led the way upstairs to the suite she officially, though rarely in practice, shared with Angel. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” she commented as they settled in the living room area.

Cordelia shrugged. “I can hear the phone ring from here. You know, Buffy, I’m really glad you and Angel got married. There’s no other way he ever would have broke down and bought a television. A woman’s manipulation is exactly what his lifestyle was lacking.”

“I’m not really manipulating. I got him figured out is all. He likes watching movies and stuff, he just doesn’t want to admit it. Sort of like the singing thing.” 

“Ooh!” said Cordelia. “ _Friends_ is on!”

Half an episode later, the door opened behind them, and Cordelia stood up and announced loudly, “Well, I better be heading downstairs to wait for the phone to ring! Any other kind of trouble happening in this building is completely not my business.”

Buffy waited for the sound of the door clicking shut behind her, but didn’t say anything or look up from the TV. Soon there was a presence looming behind her, and then Angel tentatively cleared his throat.

“Hello dear,” said Buffy evenly.

“Sorry I’m late...”

“No big. I’ve been quite occupied. I’m watching _Friends_. It’s a complex and intriguing show, full of social commentary and spontaneous hilarity. In fact, I think you should wait for a commercial break before trying to talk to me.”

Angel sighed, but didn’t come around from behind the couch. What did he think he was going to do, make her turn around first? “Buffy,” he complained.

“Shh,” she warned him. “I think Chandler’s about to do something zany.”

“You’re giving me the cold shoulder, is that it?”

Buffy pointed at the screen. “Ha ha ha! Boy, that was some well-placed sarcasm!”

That remark effectively brought him to his breaking point: “This show is the _worst_ example of performance media that the modern world has to offer! It’s crass and the jokes aren’t funny and the characters make terrible role models! Why would anybody want to watch this trash?”

“Maybe because they’re sulky because their spouses left them alone without leaving a note or an explanation with Cordy or anything.”

Silence was his only answer: oh dammit, he was going to wait her out. He _always_ won when he employed that tactic. Maybe it was time to lay out some argumentative ground rules.

However, this time he was the first to speak, and it was after letting very little time pass. “You’re going to make us late.”

She caught herself just before turning around to look at him. Playing on her curiosity, now, that was crafty too. Resolutely she kept her eyes forward. “Late for what?”

“Nothing. Sorry I interrupted your show. Maybe I should give it a chance. I’m just set in my ways, you know, used to live theatre. Anyway, I better go see if I can scalp these...”

Buffy forgot what she was holding out for and turned around to look up at his mischievously twinkling brown eyes. “Scalp what for the who now?” she said before noticing the pair of tickets in his hand. “Live theatre? We’re going out?”

“Anything to get that TV turned off,” said Angel, but he smiled and brought his other hand out from behind his back. He had a red rose, that sneaky devil, and a...menu? 

She squirmed around further to get a closer look. “Bella Cucina? Did you get a reservation there? That’s like, where classy people go!”

“Well, it’s our first weekend here since I came back from Pylea, and I wanted to do something special.” He looked suddenly worried. “Do you want to? Maybe I should have asked first, but I realized I didn’t have any presents ready for you, and I...I kind of panicked.”

“And you ran out at the last minute to go plan a romantic evening.” Buffy plucked the rose out of his hand and hitched her arms around his waist, laughing into his chest. “Alright, you win. This time we’ll go with your plan. Only because I happen to have a classy dress with me. And because I missed you.”

He gestured at the TV, still prattling on behind her. “More than you’ll miss Chandler?”

“It’s a rerun. Bring on the guilt-induced date with my number one man. I’m getting manicotti. You’re getting...hm. Can’t tell what has garlic in it. What kind of play is this? Is there singing? Do I have time to change my hairstyle?”

At some point during the conversation, Angel had dropped the menu and tickets and filled his hands with her instead. They wandered over her back and arms, slid beneath her shirt, and moved up to play with her hair, pressing her closer to him in an almost incidental way. Buffy thought fleetingly of abandoning the newly made plans and replacing them with activities fit for taking place right here in the suite, but she sensed a fervid need in Angel’s embrace that really wasn’t sexual. “You okay?” she said softly as his cheek slid across her face.

“Just glad to be home,” he murmured.

She chuckled. “You never learn to appreciate your own dimension until you’ve spent some time in one with head-explody collars on all the humans, huh?”

He pulled his face back to look at her and said, “That’s not what I meant.” 

She knew exactly what he had meant. She fumbled to reach the remote control and turn off the TV without letting go of him—- it wouldn’t do to leave the house without getting in one good solid kiss first, and Chandler wasn’t invited. 

Angel’s tongue rediscovered her mouth as his hands had her body, and before she knew it, she had climbed over the back of the couch and was hanging onto him with all four limbs. She was glad to be home, too.


End file.
